


all we do is think about the feelings that we hide

by honeysparks



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Driving, M/M, Pining, Post-Purgatory, Regret, Slow Burn, Songfic, it's quite a simple fic, there isn't much to say about this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 12:57:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8714818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeysparks/pseuds/honeysparks
Summary: "All we do is sit in silence, waiting for a sign. Sick and full of pride, all we do is drive."





	

**Author's Note:**

> enjoy! uwu
> 
> title from 'drive' by halsey

_"your laugh echoes down the highway,"_

Over the course of a week spent chasing case after case down the west coast while Sam mopes over Amelia back in Texas, Dean realises that he really likes the sound of Castiel's laugh. He won't ever admit it, of course, but he does.

He likes the way Castiel's eyes scrunch up a little at the corners when he laughs, and the way the smile spread slowly across his face just before he does. Dean may not have ever seen Cas' true form, but he knows that it must be just as beautiful, if not more.

The sound of his laugh calms something inside of Dean; unwinds the tendrils of his treacherous thoughts that always seem to be knotting inside him. When Cas laughs, it seemed like the world, spinning in layers and textures of colour, freezes to black and white for a while and gives his eyes and mind some time to relax.

-

 _"carves into my hollow chest,_  
_spreads over the emptiness, it's bliss."_

There are a lot of things in a day, let alone a week, let alone a month, that give Dean a reason to be stressed and wired in all the wrong ways. It's all the more tiring and stressful because they're dealing with not just demons, but with the added responsibility of Kevin, and sometimes Dean wishes he was back in Purgatory, where everything was black and white and simple.

Kill the monsters. Protect yourself. Protect Benny. Find Cas.

Fuck, _Cas_.

Along with the memories of Purgatory are the guilt-ridden feelings Dean shoved deep down concerning how he couldn't get his- the angel out, and how someone or something else had to. Wasn't that his _one_ job? And he couldn't do it. Again.

But when Castiel laughs- God, when he laughs, it's like those memories don't exist. Like it's the first night in Purgatory itself and they're setting up whatever camp they can so they have time to rest before they need to be killing all the sons of bitches as they can manage; like it's right before Cas disappeared to wherever he did, and Dean was just in the middle of telling some terrible joke to do with the seemingly never-ending forestry that was Purgatory.

When Castiel laughs, Dean feels like everything inside him settles. And with the life he lives, if he's being given a moment of clarity in comfort, he'll take it.

(Especially it's in the form of a beautiful blue-eyed angel laughing.)

-

 _"it's so simple but we can't stay,_  
_over-analyze again;_  
_would it really kill you if we kissed?"_

When Dean pictured himself spending the third night in an especially crappy motel, he pictured himself spending the entire night geeking out on lore that would help him track down whatever fućker was eating people so he and Cas could get out of there.

He did not picture himself leaning against the wall beside the door, hands fisted in the lapels of Castiel's trench-coat. And he really did not picture his lips slotted messily against Castiel's, small sounds emanating from the both of them.

Dean pulls away, green eyes wide in both want and the fear that he's misinterpreted the signs somehow, and that he's the only one that's been wanting to do this for the past week, or maybe longer, now that he thinks about it. But then Cas' fingers are hooking themselves into the belt loops of Dean's jeans and pulling their bodies flush together, and he's kissing Dean like the world could end and nothing would stop him.

"Why didn't we do this sooner?" Dean mutters gruffly against Castiel's lips, shuddering at the slight stubble burn and sliding his hand up Cas' back.

"There are many reasons," Castiel answers in a voice that Dean thinks is way too calm, "I could tell you now, but I think it would be better to discuss that later."

Dean's fingers stop their movements at the buckle of Castiel's pants as he pauses to look at him and kiss his cheek gently. "Never change, you hear me, Cas? Never."

That night, Dean sleeps better than he has in a long time. He takes two NyQuil and makes his brain shut down before he starts overthinking what happened.

It works like a charm.

-

_"my neck, the feeling of your soft lips,"_

Through the next week or so, Dean learns a few things. One, that vampire-werewolf hybrids exist, and they aren't called werepires, but rather some weird name that he can't for the life of him remember, and two, that Castiel, angel of the Lord, is a fućking tease.

At first, Dean thought it was his overexcited imagination and pent-up sexual frustration that was making him see and feel things that weren't real. But turns out, the sky is blue, seawater is salty, and it's just Cas screwing with him.

The morning after their first sexual encounter, Dean had thought it best to pretend nothing happened. Counting it as a one-night stand slash stress relief slash 'It Was Bound To Happen Once' seemed easier than to admit that it was something they'd both been wanting for a while. But then he was shuffling to the bathroom to freshen up for the day, and Cas was there, wearing his AC/DC shirt.

Only his AC/DC shirt.

Now, Dean isn't even surprised when Cas takes the initiative. Sometimes it's shoving Dean against the nearest hardy surface with a low growl and a very sexy phrase said in the most unsexy way possible. Sometimes it's subtle touches all throughout the investigation, working Dean up until they get back to the motel or Impala, and Dean lasts all of five seconds before he's grumbling against Cas' lips and pulling him onto his lap.

Cas doesn't seem to mind. In fact, Dean's starting to think that he might get off on teasing him. Sick fućk.

-

 _"illuminated in the light,_  
_bouncing off the exit signs i missed,"_

Driving with full concentration targeted at the road was difficult enough before, what with either Sam's loud singing or the launching of what Dean considered useless facts. But now, with Castiel in the passenger seat with only the sexual tension thick enough to be cut with a knife between them, Dean thinks he may or may not be losing his mind.

On windy roads, their knees bump, and sometimes Castiel's hand rests on Dean's thigh.

It feels nice; almost like the handprint seared onto his bicep, because it means that he belongs to Cas. And as much as that makes him sound like a seventeen-year old twink experimenting in BDSM, it feels nice to have a home. To know you have someone you can go to and have your puzzle piece fit in with theirs.

-

_"all we do is drive."_

They reach the bunker at half past eleven at night, and Dean's almost too tired to move from the car. He was falling asleep the whole drive back, and it's a miracle that the car's in one piece, really.

He closes his eyes for a second and suddenly he's in bed, warm with the covers tucked tight around him.

"Goodnight, Dean."

It's Cas, and Dean can tell from the sound of his voice that his angel is in the corner of the room near the door, like he always is when he says goodnight. Things are routine, and it feels good, except:

"Cas," Dean murmurs, voice already thick with sleep, "C'mere. Come cuddle."

At another time, he would use different words. At another time, his movements would be quicker. But his brain is hazy and his limbs are tired and when he feels his angel settle into his arms, he goes right to sleep.

In Dean's arms, Castiel decides that this must be what the humans call having a home.


End file.
